


Admiration

by icylook



Series: Vergil Surana [20]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Light Angst, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25484920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icylook/pseuds/icylook
Summary: “Show yourself!”He lets out a chuckle, stepping out of shadows, heavy curtain falling behind him with soft thud.
Relationships: Zevran Arainai/Male Surana, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Series: Vergil Surana [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1615327
Kudos: 5





	Admiration

**Author's Note:**

> For ZevWarden Week 2020 on tumblr, prompt fill for Day 1: Admiration °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

It’s refreshing to see fluid grace of a warrior, when he makes a noise on purpose and Alistair leaps from his spot, book forgotten, hand reflexively closing on the sword leaning on table beside armchair. He suspected the king had grown soft when all the fighting ended, the battles changing from physical to intellectual games.

“Show yourself!”

He lets out a chuckle, stepping out of shadows, heavy curtain falling behind him with soft thud.

“Ah, it’s you.” Alistair’s shoulders relax slightly, and though he watches him warily, his sword lowers. “Here to stick poisoned knife into someone? Just so you know, I won’t go down without fight.” The hand on sword’s handle grips it a bit tighter before his fingers uncurl to deceptively lazy hold. Easy to change with right speed and momentum.

Zevran’s eyebrow goes up. “It’s private visit. Besides,” he grins, spreading his arms with palms open, “I’m out of Crows’ business, I don’t kill kings anymore. Unless, you have someone in mind, I could try to find a spot in my schedule. I’d even give you a discount.” He winks, glancing around the room. Alistair rolls his eyes and puts the sword on the table in reachable distance. He crosses his arms on his chest. “And what is the point of your visit, if not assassination attempt?” 

Sharp golden eyes narrow slightly. “Had many so far? Fresh lines are always so fragile and easy to uproot, many would leap for a chance.” Zevran drawls lightly, watching Alistair shift and trying to keep neutral face. He has to work on that more if he wants to be successful.

“All my tips for upping the security not used. You tempt fate, my friend.” Zevran tuts.

“ _ Are  _ you my friend, Zevran?”

“Oh, I hope so. After all, saving the world from horrible monsters brings people together, or so I’ve heard.”

Alistair snorts, his unfriendly composure falling. “I guess,” he murmurs and rubs the back of his neck, looking down for a moment and Zevran uses it to look him up and down properly, noticing how very nicely shirt stretches over his chest. He hums softly in his throat. Still in shape it seems. Alistair shoots him a look, “Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but why are you here? And how did you even  _ get _ here? It’s second floor.” 

Zevran shrugs, undoing clasps of his cloak, draping it over the back of second armchair and casually sitting down.

“On my way to Keep. I’ve been in the area, thought I’ll see how king is faring. And wanted to test attention of your guards. It was this or pose as a servant and I wasn’t exactly in mood to dress up. You should think about replacing them, by the way.” He glances up at Alistair, still standing and gestures for the armchair he sat before. “In king’s palace not a mouse should be able to pass and here you can carry entire sheep and no one would bat an eye.” Zevran leans back, making himself comfortable. “Or I’m just that good.” He purrs and Alistair shakes his head, going for heavy wooden cabinet and sitting down with two goblets and bottle of wine. 

“It’s good to see your manners didn’t stay in woods, dear Alistair.” Zevran teases, watching him closely. “Did you offer the same courtesy to Vergil last you’ve seen him?”

He stiffens immediately, grip on his goblet making his knuckles whiten. “He ordered city to burn.”

“And did you talk about it with him? Surely there was a reason to do so.”

“Because he’s always about reason and logic.” Alistair snaps through gritted teeth. Rich brown eyes squint at him, “You really don’t know anything?”

“Only bits and pieces.” The wine in his goblet swirls with flick of his wrist close to spilling, but not a drop leaves it. “It’s hard to keep regular correspondence when one tries to avoid being tracked down. Besides, he’s careful with what he says in his letters.”

“There was a hearing.” 

Zevran tilts his head, keeping quiet.

Alistair takes a long gulp of his wine, putting down the goblet with more force than necessary and reaching for the bottle. “Few of my advisors were there as well to hear  _ Arl’s _ reasoning of taking down entire city, when it was his duty to protect it. As well as break  _ important _ trade route,” he stresses the words, grimacing when the wine almost sloshes out of his goblet, “crippling one of Ferelden’s most crucial ports for years to come.” He stares into the goblet before he brings it to his lips, sipping it more carefully. Zevran drinks as well, keeping his gaze on Alistair when their eyes meet. “There were voices to strip the arling from him before he even came to the hearing.”

“Did you have a hand in it too?” 

“With how many rumors and conspiracy theories spreading about him and Wardens? I wanted to.” Alistair huffs, “I wanted to take it away and let him see consequences of his actions. Show him he’s not always right and he’s able to fuck up.” He nearly growls and drinks again.

Zevran leans forward, both of his elbows digging on his thighs as he staples his fingers. “But you didn’t.” He watches Alistair closely, noticing the slight slump on lines of his shoulders.

“I didn’t, even if I  _ really  _ wanted to.” The bitterness carries in his voice. “I shouldn’t hold grudges as a king, should I. Even for backstabbing  _ brothers in arms _ .” 

“I think backstabbing is important part of any friendships.” Zevran smiles briefly. “Why didn’t you do it then?”

Alistair sighs, “Amaranthine is a mess and he’s sitting right there. It’s his mess and he should sort it out. And Order needs its own land.” He’s silent for a moment, brows furrowed. Short beard rasps under his hand when he rubs at his jaw. “He brought Howe with him, apparently made him Warden. We talked a bit,” slight smile plays on his lips, “Nathaniel’s nowhere as his father, it seems.” 

“So I’ve heard. Have you talked with Vergil as well?”

Alistair’s jaw works upon hearing his name. “Commander Surana hasn’t requested for an audience.” He says flatly, fingers drumming on low table. 

“You haven’t talked at all for over a year? Somehow it’s hard to believe.” 

“Official correspondence sorts most of what we have to talk about.” Zevran hums at the curt tone and decides to let it go, for now. He leans back again.

“What was this hearing about then?”

“Questioning reports, considering petitions, some petty power plays and looking down at the one you’re talking with. The usual.” 

Zevran rests his cheek on his fist. “I suppose it didn’t go so bad, as I haven’t heard about Warden Commander enjoying hospitality of Drakon again.”

Alistair scoffs. “Don’t be absurd, I wouldn’t put him in dungeon and risk another bloodbath. I have a reputation to keep and he’d only embarrass me more. Maker only knows who’d come after me then.” Corners of his lips twitch as he fights down a smile, gaze wary and Zevran nods. 

“Wise decision, my friend. As much as I like you it’d be a real shame if I’d have to choose.” He says and Alistair shudders like he’d been doused with cold water.

“See, you’re saying you’re out of business, but that glint in your eye says otherwise. Assassins.”

Zevran’s smile has too much teeth to be called entirely friendly.

“You don’t have to worry though. No one put him behind bars, no one touched him in any way. I think most of them were secretly intimidated by how calm he was when they hurled accusations at him. He had answer to almost every question. Brought full reports not only on Wardens’ past actions about darkspawn activity, but few important documents about situation in Amaranthine before he razed it down to the ground. It seems few decisive nobles did the city  _ good _ ,” The sarcasm nearly drips on the words, “some not so openly working with smugglers, most evading taxes or taking money from crown for investments that didn’t happen or were mysteriously postponed.” There’s a reluctant regard in Alistair’s tone. “Of course there are voices saying those documents are false and these voices are loud, I tell you.”

_ “The lady doth protest too much.” _

“Exactly.” Alistair sighs and slowly swallows a mouthful of wine.

“You wanted to see him on his knees, no?” Alistair coughs at the sudden question and narrows his eyes at him. Zevran’s smile stays playful but sharpens with his next words, “To punish prideful man like him and see how he reacts, knowing he’s dependent on you.”

“He had to answer for what he did. Crown contemplates helping with rebuild, but won’t give money just because someone asks.”

“Oh? But you watched others pick at him without remorse because they could. What you did was to humiliate him for your own satisfaction.”

“He traded honor for murderer in his ranks.” Alistair spits, though Zevran sees it doesn’t carry the same fire it did a year ago.

Zevran tsks, “That’s talk you should have with him after sharing few bottles of good vintage, I think. And how honorable is your own court, I wonder? Vergil’s  _ elven mage  _ in power, Chantry can’t touch him because he’s Warden and one of saviors of this country, but it’ll always be a struggle for him to stay that way. And they’ll keep biting at him from every angle, with or without your help. Including few failed assassinations attempt.”

“Someone wanted to kill him? Who?” 

Zevran rolls his shoulders to shake off the tension creeping up his nape. “My guess is as good as yours, but I’m sure it’s nobles who disagreed with Arl’s politics on their turf. It got handled, pretty well, I’ve been told. One of his Wardens tried to kill him before he was conscripted.”

Alistair almost chokes on his own spit, “And he got him through joining?” Disbelief paints his words, as he looks Zevran up and down. “It’s a pattern, I swear. Does he sleep with him as well?”

He barks a laugh and Alistair smiles at his own joke too. “I hope I’d have been told if he’s doing so. Wouldn’t mind bit of fun with fellow professional.” Zevran waggles his brows meaningfully and Alistair shakes his head with small smirk, “You’re impossible.”

“Well, you already know him, I believe. It’s Howe.”

His eyes widen, “Nathaniel?! Really?” Alistair’s silent for a moment, “He seemed silent, serious… intense eyes though. Completely different from you.”

“Your flavour of a man?” Zevran snickers at baffled expression on Alistair’s face. “I have a  _ wife, _ you know.” He says flatly, though a bit of blush darkens his cheeks. 

“How is it going with your wife then? I can give you few tips for performance in-”

Alistair interrupts him, purposely raising his voice, “Oh no, we are not talking about any performance, not now, not _ ever. _ ”

Zevran sighs, hand going to his chest in mock display of hurt. “You wound me my friend, I only want to be helpful in case your wife finds you lacking-”

“Shut up Zevran.” The tips of Alistair’s ears are a wonderful shade of red and he can’t help but chuckle at his expression. Alistair busies himself with drinking rest of his wine, “Not a word.” He points at him and Zevran rolls his lips with murmured  _ “Fereldens” _ .

“Thank the Maker Vergil’s far from being such prude.”

“I have no idea what you see in him,” Alistair quips in between sips.

Zevran’s eyes lock with his. “Oh I think you do, after all he’s marvellous to look at. And this thing he does with his fingers when he uses magic to-”

“I’ve heard enough of you two during Blight, thanks. I really don’t need to hear it again.”

“Have you?” His smile is impish, eyes narrowed playfully. “But I could swear there was always some spell in motion preventing others from  _ hearing…  _ though you’ve got templar training, no? I guess it’d be easy to dispel if you’d wanted to spy on us.”

He watches how Alistair’s throat works when he swallows. “I’ve never dispelled a thing he casted and definitely not on purpose of spying you two having… your time alone. Can we drop it now, I have no idea how you’ve even come to this idea.”

“Easily, if you do it right.” He laughs when Alistair’s mouth thins. “I should kick you out for making fun of king.”

“I think you miss people joking  _ with  _ you. Being so serious all the time, how do you manage that?”

Alistair groans, rubbing his face, “Barely. But it amuses me greatly knowing  _ he  _ has as much paperwork as I do.”

“Hmm yes. Remember our little meeting during last fight? You probably haven’t seen it, but he was very glad to see you there. King out in the field, fighting monsters that plague his people. Equal to his soldiers.  _ Inspiring. _ ” 

“I couldn’t exactly stay and take a nap in palace when Denerim was overrun with darkspawn. Too much noise.”

“Outside or in your head?” Zevran asks and tilts his head to the side when Alistair’s gaze sharpens.

“He told you about it?”

“Didn’t have to. I’ve noticed both of you had this particular scowl just before darkspawn would spring at us. Nearing end of battles the look was almost permanent on Vergil’s face.”

Alistair bites the inside of his cheek and shakes his head. “All of it feels like yesterday.” He mumbles and they stay quiet for rest of the bottle.

“You could stay here for a night, you know.” Alistair says, standing up and stretching after they finished their drinks. The shirt rides up a bit and it’s a fine sight for someone who can appreciate one’s body.

“Are you ready to risk being seen with man walking out from your bedroom in the morning? And so early in your reign, _ bold,  _ Alistair. Just imagine the scandal.” He gets up as well, working out few kinks before he tries himself with walls again. Alistair scoffs at his words, more amused than offended and Zevran suspects alcohol helped him relax.

“I’ll stay in Pearl. It’s a wonder how half of city was raided by darkspawns and brothel stayed in one piece. It’s a sign, don’t you think my friend?” He winks. 

“For what, investment? Can’t see it going well.”

“At least it’s steady source of income.” Zevran puts on his cloak, securing the hood over his head and pulling on mask covering half of his face. “By the way, wine wasn’t poisoned.” 

Alistair isn’t surprised, scratching at his nose. “Yeah I’ve noticed. No burning tongue or sudden choking. Just some sour fermented grapes.” He makes a face, “Still prefer good ale better.”

Zevran’s smile is pleased, even if hidden behind dark thin fabric. “I see you took my advice to heart with sampling poisons. Good.”

“Yours have run out some time ago. Leliana sent fresh set. I checked if it’s from her, don’t worry.” He adds hurriedly when Zevran’s eyes narrow. 

“I guess she has her ways too.” He strides towards window, gracefully hopping onto windowsill, crouching on it. Zevran turns to Alistair, seeing how he came closer to peer out of the window. “See you soon, my friend. Maybe even in different company.” 

Alistair crosses his arms and rocks on his heels, “Maybe.” He lengthens the word and Zevran laughs quietly under his breath as he opens the window, glancing around for threats. “Fereldens. Stubborn as their dogs.”

Faint offended  _ “Hey!” _ behind him makes his smile stretch. Then he notices a spot he’s been looking for, free falling a bit and gripping it in time to avoid flattening himself on cobblestone. It’s a quick way after that and he’s out of premises faster than it took him to get in. Alistair really should do something about guards, he thinks, walking through Denerim's streets, shadows easily swallowing him up as they belong to him.


End file.
